Massacre of Young Souls
by Dawn96
Summary: Professor McGonagall notices a change in one of her students...


**AN: I realized just yesterday that I haven't read anything with our dear McGonagall and Regulus Black. He was Sirius' brother so there's bound to be some link between the two... Anyway, it's just a thought. Read and Review :) **

**Disclaimer: Do not own.**

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><p><span>Massacre of Young Souls<span>

She had the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years today, writing down their notes as she pointed at the large diagram on her blackboard with her wand. Pushing up her glasses gently, she immediately grabbed the textbook and called out the page number as she was about to start on the theoretical base. As she gave them a few minutes to shuffle from their parchments to open their books, her stern eyes swept across the classroom to examine the faces of those who were utterly lost and those who were not even trying to pay attention. But, most of them seemed to be right on track, their brows furrowed in concentration and their eyes with a relieved understanding.

With a stiff nod to herself, she assigned someone to read the first paragraph before she would go onto explaining.

About a good half an hour passed, and she felt her throat rasp. Clearing it slightly, she gushed water out of her wand into the goblet by her desk.

"Do the set of questions assigned on page two-hundred and four. I want them handed in- completed- at the end of class."

With the swish of her cloak, she made her way to her chair at her desk, lifting the drink of water to her lips as she felt a throbbing headache start from her lack of water intake these days. The fifth years were going to start their OWLs soon, and more than half of them still didn't have a clear grasp on Animal Transfigurations. She took out her assortment of notes, and scanned them as she thought up ideas on how to make the subject clearer.

Sparing a small glance around the classroom, to make sure they were at work, she caught young Quirrell sticking a piece of gum on the underside of his desk

"Quirrell!" she barked, making him jerk upwards. "Fifteen points from Slytherin for that _disgusting_ habit! Scrape it off!"

With a flushed face, he hastily pulled it off and swiftly vanished it with a wave of his wand. She pursued her lips and swept her eyes across the classroom once more for any more wrongdoers, before a peculiar sight caught her gaze. A marvel was how much those two brothers looked alike, she mused. Regulus Black sat alongside Barty Crouch Jr who was diligently writing on his parchment. But what really caught her was what _he _himself was doing… which was nothing at all.

His elbows were on his desk, and his hands were griping at his hair making her see a clear forehead with a clean hairline. His large, pale eyes were surrounded by dark rings from lack of sleep and his arched eyebrows were raised high. She noted how his cheekbones seemed more protruding and how sunken his cheeks looked on his pale face- tinged grey from lack of sunlight probably. His eyes were far off into the distance as he stared aimlessly onto his empty piece of parchment. Had he been doing that this whole time?

"May I remind you that this is a marked assignment and is one of the most important portions that are to be in your upcoming NEWTs."

She kept his gaze planted directly on him, to see his reaction, but it seemed as though he hadn't heard her as he kept his frozen stance. Sighing, she made up her mind on what she was going to do about this situation.

As the bell rang minutes later, signaling the end of the lesson, the students bolted up and started to shove books and parchment into their bags quickly to get a whiff of freedom. She summoned all the parchments on which their answers were scrawled on.

"Mr Black!" she called out. "Black!"

He looked up at her as he was slowly corking his ink bottle.

"I would like to have a word with you in my office," she waved him over as she made her way to her office.

She waited for him by the door and he slowly walked in, his bag slung over his shoulder, before she shut the door firmly.

"Have a seat," she motioned as she swished in, to sit at her chair behind her wooden desk.

He slumped down, his expression blank and heavy. His eyes were at his fingers which were scratching at one another with bitten nails. He looked up expectantly at her with his large eyes, its paleness making her sit on edge.

"Mr Black, I noticed that you weren't paying attention in class today," she said pointedly, looking at his unfazed expression. "And that the parchment I assigned the classwork today was undoubtedly empty."

She kept her gaze at him, watching him as he didn't even flinch. His expression was dead and his eyes were hollow.

"I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again," he said dimly.

"Mr Black," she said tersely.

Rubbing her temples, she pulled out a tartan container and snapped off the lid before rustling it in front of him.

"Have a ginger newt."

His dead expression gave way to sudden surprise. "What?"

"Have a ginger newt."

"No thanks," he replied, lowering his gaze.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I don't want one-" she felt his throat tighten.

Pursing her lips she took out a ginger newt and snapped up his arm, forcefully putting into his hand. She looked at him pointedly, showing him that she was dead serious. He gave her an odd look before carefully taking a bite at the biscuit. Nodding her head in approval, she sat back, peering at him from above her glasses.

She took in his thinner frame, his longer hair and his tired eyes. Then, she noted the untidy tie that was carelessly slung, the unbuttoned cuffs and the untied shoelaces that were clinking on the stone floor. She noted his protruding collar bone and his throat that was clenched. He looked completely unkempt. To some students, this look was to promote 'coolness' but, by looking at his expression, 'coolness' was the last thing on his mind.

"Mr Black," she said softly. "Is everything alright?"

He looked up at her, his eyes slightly fearful before he pulled a blank expression.

"Yes."

"Black, I did not call you here to listen to your lies," she said curtly.

"Well sorry, Professor," he replied bitterly with a wry smile, not in the least apologetic. "But I don't _want_ to be here, so if I can be excused."

He stood up, grabbing his bag from the floor. She looked up, surprised at his actions and immediately cast a charm on her door that made it slam shut. He whipped up to meet her, his face taken aback as his hand fumbled with his crooked tie.

"Black," she stood up too, her hands on the table now as she looked directly at him. "I will not have an Outstanding student drop to failure."

Regulus gave her a sharp snort, before his handsome features were graced with scorn.

"Professor, I believe you're mistaken. It's _Sirius_," he spat, "that's the 'Outstanding' student. My work in Transfigurations has _always_ been 'satisfactory'."

She blinked at him, not knowing how to answer that.

"Mr Black…" she said. "I hope this isn't about any sibling rivalry-"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" he said ludicrously, "Do you think I'm as petty as my perfect brother?"

"Black-"

"Why do you even care? When have I been the apple of your eyes for you to have anything to do with me?" he snapped. "You're not even my Head of House."

For the first time, she saw a full out, expressive Regulus Black. She saw his tensed shoulders round up to his neck and his fist clenching as he gritted his teeth. She knew bottled anger when she saw it- whatever the boy had cooped up in that thin frame of his was surely body wrecking.

"You are my student, you are in my class, and you are in this school. Those are enough reasons for me to worry on your state," she insisted, her voice trembling with her bottled anger.

"To slander with this bloody school!" he yelled, his voice hoarse as though it grated against his throat. "Do I look like I give a damn if you're trying reason with me? If I feel like throwing myself of the astronomy tower, it's my bloody business! I've had enough of-" he suddenly stopped, snapping his mouth shut.

She felt an uncharacteristic douse of panic flow through her as she gripped the edge of her table. He swallowed heavily, and panted slightly before he ran a hand through his hair tensely and fumbled with his crooked tie as he looked at anything but at her eyes. He muttered something under his breath and kept his face gazing at the wall. She stood up and walked straight up to him, standing up front as she eyed him carefully.

"Have a seat Mr Black," she said softly, gently gesturing.

"No."

She grabbed her tartan container and rustled it.

"Have a biscuit."

"No."

"Take one!"

"I don't want a bloody biscuit!"

"Black!"

"I hate ginger!"

"Stop being silly!"

He glared at her before harshly taking a biscuit and shoving it into his mouth whole. With a few deep breaths he threw down his bag and took a seat heavily on the wooden chair. She sighed and sat opposite him, pursing her lips as she waited.

"I haven't been sleeping lately, that's all."

His answer was short and clipped, as he slumped back, and breathed in deeply. He looked at her with those wide, pale eyes, begging her to let him go.

"I'll sign you the day off if you're feeling a tad bit depressed-" she said as she took out a piece of parchment to write a note to Dumbledore on it.

"No," he breathed horridly. "I need…" he gulped in air. "I need to keep busy, or else I'll lose it completely…"

He seemed to be talking more to himself than her, and she kept her ears perked, trying to fit in whatever it was he was keeping inside. She made way to clutch his shoulder, but thought otherwise. This was not Sirius Black who used to so charmingly see her every day. He wasn't Sirius Black that she was so used to talking to. No. This was his younger brother, who the complete opposite of Sirius.

"Black, I think it's better if you rest- you clearly look as though you're-"

"Dead?" he grimaced.

"A ghost," she said, unamused.

She saw that his eyes were now a piercing red- bloodshot as they were silently glimmering. He clutched at his crooked tie and pulled it as he swallowed. He looked away from her, forcing himself to exercise some control. From what she knew of the Blacks was that they valued pride, and if he broke down in front of her, she knew he would never step foot in her class again.

"Mr Black… if you need to talk to someone, do know that my door is open."

He nodded shortly, before standing up. There was no getting to him- she knew she couldn't break his ice. If he was anything like his brother, then he would keep whatever it was bothering him inside until he would break from its containment. She cast a simple spell and the door opened. He gave her a short nod before he hastily shuffled out.

She heard rapid footsteps of an unmistakable sprint and the slam of the door opening as he ran out. McGonagall sat behind her desk, and rubbed her temples. She quietly covered the tartan container as she set it back. With a sigh, she sat back and looked outside. The clouds were beginning to darken, hiding the sun that was slowly setting in the distance.

She remembered Regulus Black as a first year in her Transfigurations class seven years ago. He was adorable- a small child with his wide smile and keen eyes- and exuberant. He was as active as his brother, always alive- pumped with energy and that unmistakable sense of intelligence. She found him amusing, and took a liking to him… he was very unlike the other Slytherins.

But then, time started to pass, and he began to… wilt away. Slowly becoming more reserved, more quiet… less lively. He sat in the far corner, slumped over with no interest, no longer that amusing boy she found so intriguing. He no longer had that innocent naiveté that made him look younger than he was. As a teenager, his temper started to flare and she caught him in detention numerously for lashing out and fighting with his own dorm mates.

She didn't understand. What happened? Knowing Walburga and the House of Black…

Children, she thought, should never be the pawns of society.

As time passed, she remembered it all as she sat, gob-smacked, in front of Dumbledore. She felt hot tears trickle down her face. She cried, for the first time in years. For that young student- that young boy who was going to graduate in one week. That young boy who achieved the highest mark in Charms and never knew it. That young boy that had the pressure of fear on his unfaltering shoulders. That young boy that used to be so vivacious. That young boy whose body was never found. That young boy who was not even an adult. His disappearance had been officially brought to as dead… she had lost her student.

This war, she realized as she dabbed her pricking eyes, was going to be a massacre of young souls.


End file.
